


The Chara Protection Squad

by Annoying_Fan



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Apparently That's a Tag Too, Chara Has Issues, Chara Has Their Own Body, Chara Protection Squad, Gen, Humor, It's Future Charisk in the Making if you Squint Though and You Better Believe I'm Squinting, Non-Binary Chara, Non-Binary Frisk, One Shot, Platonic Relationships, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route - "I want to stay with you."
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 06:35:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14665347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annoying_Fan/pseuds/Annoying_Fan
Summary: Chara doesn't want help. Chara doesn't need help. Chara can't be helped. Nobody seems to agree with Chara, though.Just some short nonsense based on an idea I had at work.





	The Chara Protection Squad

**Author's Note:**

> "Where's the new chapter of How to Date Chara Dreemurr, Annoying_Fan?" It's coming along! I was working on it but progress was slow and I decided to try writing something else that felt more alive at my fingertips in hopes that mixing it up would help me. I actually wanted to post this yesterday, but for some reason Ao3 wasn't letting me upload anything. I think that turned out to be a good thing though, because it meant I had time to come back to this later and read/polish it more. I feel so much better about it now. I'm pretty sure this is still a mess, but now it's a mess I definitely feel good about having written.

Poke.

Poke.

You grumble something unintelligible and snake a hand out from beneath the duvet to swat at the pestering offender. Your slap connects with skin, not fur, so even in a half-wakened state you can tell it’s Frisk. That’s unfortunate, because above all else Frisk is, of course, determined.

Poke.

Poke.

You figure that if Frisk isn’t going to stop until you’re up, you might as well get it over with- but that doesn’t mean you’re going to be happy about it. “Ugh, WHAT!?” you yell, shooting up and throwing the cover aside. If Frisk thought you might be angry, they wouldn’t be wrong but they also didn’t seem to let it curb their enthusiasm. Yet the flash of red fades swiftly and settles over you like a glaze of annoyance when you catch a glance of the digital alarm clock on the night table. Almost 10 AM? You had slept in, but that didn’t seem to be what Frisk woke you up for judging by the way they excitedly cradled their phone against their chest.

“Chara, you need to see this!” Frisk held themselves up with one arm while leaning over your bed so they could shove their phone in your face, and you have to repress the urge to slap both the cellular device and the offending appendage aside. Instead, your eyes trail upward with a scowl towed behind- you feel a strained and frankly unrealistic hope that obliging Frisk will be the quickest way to make them leave. You can see the younger human bouncing in your peripheral vision with an obnoxiously large grin, watching you for a reaction. They get it, you know, as you feel yourself shift from irritation to surprise to confusion in one fluid motion that must be printed all over your face once you actually focus on the screen.

“The… The Chara Protection Squad.” you deadpan, reading out the text of the big banner displayed at the top of the website Frisk had pulled up with all the excitement of… something that was the opposite of Frisk right now (you’d just woken up, so you cut yourself some slack for the lack of metaphoric coherence). “The Chara Protection Squad!” cheered Frisk, as if just repeating your words with more gusto would somehow impart a sense of understanding to you.

Well, whatever it was, you want no part of it and definitely want no part of it before breakfast. Grabbing Frisk’s wrist and pushing it back to its owner, you hope that Frisk will get the message. But as a realist (or a pessimist, but you never asked Frisk for their opinion), you know you’ll almost certainly need to go the extra mile to make sure the job gets done. “Get out, Frisk. Whatever weird website you got Alphys to make for you isn’t going to help me.” Sitting up as you push Frisk away, one hand remains on your pillow to keep yourself fully armed and ready in case Frisk doesn’t relent.

“No, but Chara!” starts Frisk, using far too much pep for someone who had just woken up to handle, “We didn’t make it! I just found it online earlier today!” The child had at least graciously removed themselves from your personal space bubble, but to lie to your face so boldly? That crosses a line.

The pillow flies through the air but Frisk dodges deftly with an infuriatingly casual sidestep because of course they would- it was like they knew it was coming before you threw it. If you didn’t know for a fact that Frisk couldn’t LOAD or RESET anymore, you might have just thought Frisk _did_ know it was coming. That doesn’t stop you from mumbling an accusation of cheating under your breath though, because seriously, that kid was so untouchable it was unfair. It makes you jealous, honestly, not that you could ever let them know.

The smug look that flashes over their face after they dodge is a perfect example of why, but you grab the angry thoughts that start bubbling up in your mind by their neck and take your aggression out on them instead of Frisk. You’re pretty sure that anthropomorphizing your worst thoughts and feelings so you can imagine beating the shit out of them has to be psychologically unhealthy, but it keeps you from beating the shit out of real people that you care about instead so you do it anyway.

“Whatever.” you say, dismissing Frisk after the brief couple seconds it takes you to snap out of your violent thoughts. “Why does it even exist? I sure as hell don’t need protection from other people and honestly the thought that some weirdo I probably don’t even know made a website for it is just weird.”

Frisk seems to have an answer at the ready, because they immediately take to scrolling down the webpage while they talk. “It’s like, a bunch of people Chara! And they’re protecting you from people that think you’re mean! From haters!” The idea makes you scoff. This is a joke, right? Frisk is a bad liar, though, and they don’t sound like they’re trying to trick you. What would the point be, anyway? “So like, anyone that says you’re evil or that you’re going to hurt everyone, you know, the Chara Protection Squad tells them that they’re wrong! Their goal is convincing other people that you’re not bad!” Frisk looks up at you with an uncharacteristic sharpness before you can even get the comment about how you _are_ evil and _are_ going to hurt someone out. You roll your eyes instead and wish Frisk would stop.

Then the phone is suddenly back in your face again and this time you do slap it away because asking someone like you to hold yourself back twice in less than five minutes is a completely unreasonable expectation. But again, Frisk is some untouchable dodging god and your hand only catches the empty air… but at least they pulled their phone back a bit. “Look! See, it’s not just one person!” says Frisk, playing off your strike like it hadn’t even happened.

You do a double take as you see the little “Members: 10,413” in the lower right corner of the screen, glancing at it once just to appease Frisk and then looking back once your brain processes a half second later what it just saw. “What the fuck?” you say, and as you reach to grab the smart phone from Frisk they simply let you take it. You barely register them chastising you for swearing again, busy as you are staring at the screen like you don’t believe it’s real. You don’t.

How could ten-fucking-thousand people know you exist, let alone think you’re a good person? What’s more, if what Frisk said was true, there are plenty of other people that know you exist but aren’t part of the squad (at least those people had the sense to realize you were seriously messed up)! Frisk definitely wasn’t lying, so that had to mean someone else was fucking with them AND you at the same time. One of those CompSci nerds from school? You didn’t think any of them would have the balls for it, but who else could it be?

In a huff, you decide you don’t care anymore, because it doesn’t matter whether it’s genuine or not (but it’s definitely not) since a silly little website and a crowd of morons that think you could ever be anything better than bad wouldn’t change anything. Frisk might have been proof that not all humans were garbage, but that didn’t mean _you_ weren’t, and a rotten piece of trash is still trash no matter what an anosmic fool says.

God, you missed Napstablook. You’re angry you can’t just zone out on the floor with him anymore, but not too angry because he finally broke big with that new DJ job in the city and that was a big step forward for him.

You continue fuming quietly as you browse the website on Frisk’s phone, since fuming quietly is your default state. When you find the website’s mission statement, you fume just a bit harder but no less quietly- squeezing the phone tightly in your hand as teeth clench. Frisk was definitely right about what the squad’s goals were, and according to the website’s mission statement they’d been around for almost three years now!? This was actually, seriously, really literally real, and you realize that’s somehow even more upsetting on so many levels than the idea of it being some bad joke from a classmate.

Frisk unfortunately didn’t miss your reaction, but they take the phone away from you which is probably for the best because you don’t want to break it. They’re sitting on the bed with you now, but you notice they’re thankfully minding your personal space this time because they looked like they were going to sit next to your before very consciously thinking better of it and sitting further down the bed instead. “Chara, don’t you get it? Thousands of people think you can be better!” they offer, and you wish you could take those words and ball them up like a piece of paper to throw in the wastebin and then throw the wastebin at Frisk to show them how much you hate this conversation but you can’t so you settle for seething sarcasm instead. “Oh no,” you intone without looking at Frisk, “Someone is wrong on the internet. Tell Mom I’m not coming to school tomorrow, I have to fix this.” Eh. It still feels pretty cathartic since it gets an annoyed huff out of Frisk.

“Chara…” they start, but you cut them off before they can get going. “No, Frisk! I told you before, I am a _bad person_. Don’t you get that every time you or anyone else says otherwise, you’re just rubbing it in my face?” Your voice strains but you’re not going to cry because you’re a big kid, not a crybaby. Frisk says your name again but you’re not done. “Why can’t you just leave me alone, Frisk!? Stop trying to fix me or save me! It’s not going to work and if you keep trying someday I’m just going to hurt you!” You almost add “Like I hurt Asriel!” but somehow, thankfully, you hold that one back because this conversation is awful enough without opening that can of worms. You’re not in bed anymore though, you’re up and you’re stomping around. You really do grab the wastebin this time and throw it across the room, but fortunately it’s empty and fortunately you don’t actually throw it at Frisk. No, surprisingly the sarcasm was much more cathartic.

You’re pretty sure Frisk flinched though, and that’s good, because if they’re scared of you maybe they’ll get the picture and back off. They give you about ten seconds to cool off before they come back at you with a stern voice that hurts more than a knife because fuck, Frisk isn’t going to back off and you know it. Not until they’ve said their piece, at least, so this time you don’t interrupt them. “Chara, people aren’t good or bad, they just do good and bad things. I’ve done bad things too, you know? And I’ve seen you do good things before. ” You cross your arms and scoff, still refusing to face Frisk because you don’t want them to see your face right now. At least you don’t do that thing where you ooze black liquid sorrow anymore.

“So even if you did bad stuff before, that doesn’t mean you’re trash, okay? I don’t like it when you say stuff about yourself like that. Mom doesn’t, Flowey doesn’t-“ Frisk probably doesn’t hear you mumbling that Flowey’s opinion doesn’t matter anyway- “Dad doesn’t. No one does! You just have to try to do good stuff now instead of bad stuff, and you’ll be a _better_ person, and that’s good enough, okay?”

You’re suddenly tired of this conversation, which is surprising because you literally just got out of bed but also not surprisingly because this is probably the twelfth version of this spiel you’ve heard from Frisk in recent memory. You sigh and you shrug, knowing that it will be over sooner if you make nice with Frisk. “I know.” you say with as much sincerity as you can pretend to have, “I know, you’re right. But it’s not easy to try when I also know someday I’m going to just mess up and hurt somebody important, like you or Mom or Dad.”

“Or Flowey.” Adds Frisk, and you politely ignore the comment.

“When I turn eighteen, I’m going to move out. Then nobody has to worry about me lashing out and doing something dumb.” Getting your own place ASAP was a stance you’ve been quite adamant on for a long time now, despite reservations from… basically everyone? You’d been saving up your allowance for it and you had like $120 dollars now and you’re sure you can find a way to live off that for a while until you get a job. Something suitable to your skills, like a professional knitter or chocolate taste-tester or maybe an assassin.

But then you do a dumb thing, you think the conversation is over so you turn around, but Frisk is staring at you with a really sad look and you think they might cry. But they don’t, which is impressive for a little kid like them. “The only person who worries about that is you, Chara! None of us are scared of you, we just want you to be happy!”

Okay, so appeasing them didn’t work? You tried a Logical Argument and you tried Pretending to Agree, so you’re just about out of options. FIGHT is right out, you’re sticking to ACTs, and the only ACT you can think of now is to just Leave. So you do that, but not before snapping at Frisk one more time- because of course you would. “Well maybe you should be scared!” you screech, already storming towards the door. You only stop at the door because Frisk starts to speak again, even though you reeeeally hoped they’d get the picture and just stop.

“Chara, you literally have like ten thousand people who think you can be better if you try, so why can’t you believe any of them!?” they shout back. Now they’re yelling too, so you’re not going to dignify them with real answers anymore. “If you’re so sure they’re right, why don’t you just join their dumb group and let me know if any of them know how to magically fix me!?” You slam the door because the conversation is over now whether Frisk thinks so or not, and they says something but the blood pumping in the veins is too loud for you to hear them through the door. Toriel might have shouted from downstairs, but you’ll be out the front door before she can catch you if she’s in her bedroom right now. You need to be alone for a while.

* * *

A few weeks later, you’re sitting in Undyne’s truck on the way back home from sparring practice. You’re in the passenger seat because Undyne is cool enough to let you ride in the back but only until you reach your neighborhood and then she makes you take shotgun because Mom would freak out if she knew you were standing in the back of a moving truck. It’s weird though, because you realized Undyne is wearing a black long-sleeved shirt once you got in the truck’s cabin. Changing into something other than sweaty training clothes before going home is normal- you’ve got your own in a plastic bag on your lap- but you’re pretty sure Undyne never wears long sleeves? Like, ever. You were pretty certain she didn’t own any, unless full plate armor counts. You’re positive it doesn’t, but even if you’re wrong that doesn’t matter because she’s not wearing her kickass full plate right now either.

You’re staring and she’s talking and it dawns on you that she’s talking _to_ you because obviously there’s no one else in the truck to talk to. She’s congratulating you for your technique improving, which she always says on the ride back because you’re always getting better, and you distract yourself from the weirdness about her shirt with the glowing little feeling of pride that comes with Undyne’s praise. It probably doesn’t matter. She must just be trying out a new fashion, so you’re about to tell her that you think the sleeves don’t suit her well because they hide her muscles when you notice something else even weirder that makes you stop.

There are a bunch of cars outside your house? Like, that’s Papyrus’ hotrod and Dad’s hippy van he bought off a guy you’re pretty sure was on drugs and also Alphys’ fancy hybrid car? You try to recall if there’s a birthday or holiday you forgot about, and when you can’t think of one you ask Undyne if there was one.

She says no, but she doesn’t look confused, so she knows why everyone is here and she’s not telling you. You figure that you’ll find out soon enough so you leave the conversation at that, but you’re quicker to unbuckle yourself and get out of the truck than normal.

Undyne is too, because she catches up to you sprinting up the walkway to the porch even though she had to go around the truck for it. “Whoa there, punk! Careful now, don’t want to trip and skin a knee, right?” she says, grabbing your shoulder just long enough to make you stop. “Please. I wouldn’t trip, and even if I did, you would catch me.” you retort confidently, and you don’t miss the way Undyne steps ahead of you to reach the door first. She knocks loudly, which is also weird, and positions herself between you and the doorknob to keep you from letting yourself in, which is extra weird.

Nothing happens at first, but after about ten seconds you both hear Mom calling for you to come in. This situation has officially crossed into Mega Weird Territory, but there’s nothing you can do but go along with it now and quite frankly you’re too curious to ignore the situation even if you could.

Undyne moves to let you open the door so you step forward while looking up at her with eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She just gives you a toothy smile though, so you go on. Whatever is waiting for you on the other side of the door, you’re ready for it.

No, never mind, you were not ready for this.

Everyone is there, which you already expected. Alphys and Sans are on the couch with Frisk sandwiched between them because the couch is a loveseat meant for two, but two boss monster-sized people. Flowey is on the coffee table, and Papyrus is standing past it in front of the fire place. Even Dad is here, in the same room as Mom, even if he’s in the reading chair next to the fireplace and Toriel is standing next to the front door which is about as far from him as she could be while still in the same room. And the room, for that matter, is decorated with streamers and a big banner that says “We love you!” in colorful, hand-drawn letters.

But they’re all wearing green sweaters that say “CHARA PROTECTION SQUAD” in big yellow letters, and you were definitely not ready for that. You must look as flabbergasted as you feel, because even after everyone shouts “Surprise!” and Papyrus and Frisk throw handfuls of confetti in the air, you find that your mouth just hangs open uselessly as words fail you. Undyne laughs and gives you a little push so you can stumble inside, and then Toriel takes your hand and leads you over to the coffee table. “Chara, you struggle with letting yourself be loved, by others or by yourself. We have told you that we are here for you, no matter what, yet even still you push us away. But when we say that we love you, that we want you in our lives, that we don’t find you to be a burden, we mean it.” She’s kneeling down in front of you to speak face to face, because she knows you hate being talked down to, and her smile is comforting and happy but sad underneath.

“So we decided that if you won’t believe our words, we will have to show you in another way.” You finally regain enough of your senses to look around, and you stare at Frisk- that little shit! They grin cheekily at you from the couch and wave, and you ~~smile a little in spite of yourself~~ definitely don’t smile back to them at all because now this is just sad.

There was a whole round of cheers from everyone before Toriel continued. “Little Frisk showed us this online organization called the Chara Protection Squad. At first I was… concerned, to say the least, but even though we don’t know how it formed I have seen that they mean well. We have all joined the Chara Protection Squad and now it is _officially_ our duty to ensure you are loved and safe from ‘the haters’.” You never fail to get a chuckle from Mom using internet slang like “haters” or “memelords” (you will never forgive Frisk for tricking Toriel into thinking “memelord” was another word for human kids, even though it was hilarious how she kept calling both of you her precious memelords for two straight days, because you can’t forgive yourself for not thinking to do it first).

She hugs you and pats you reassuringly on the back, and you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. When she pulls away you look around the room again, to make sure you’re not hallucinating. No, everyone has the shirt except Undyne and Flowey, and even Flowey has “CHARA PROTECTION SQUAD! :D” written on a new pot in black sharpie, surrounded with heart- and star-shaped stickers.

“Hey, don’t stare. It’s rude.” chides Flowey, looking cross, and you’re pretty sure he wanted to say something meaner but someone must have bribed him into being nice. But you oblige him anyway, because if he can pretend to be nice to you, you can pretend to him. You look at Dad instead and can see from the affectionate way he smiles that he wants to hug you too, but he doesn’t, probably because Mom is still hovering over you.

“Chara, my dear… You are hurting so much inside.” he says from the chair, “We all want to help you. This party was Frisk’s idea, but everyone has put their heart into it. Can’t you see our dedication to you?” And as you look closer at him, at his shirt, the gears click into place in your head and you gasp. “Wait- don’t tell me you knitted all of these yourself!?” you ask, bewildered at the prospect. That would have taken him days to do!

He shakes his head and holds his paws out towards the others. “No Chara, I did not knit them all myself. Your mother helped too, and even Frisk made a couple once we taught them how to knit as well.” You think for a minute that that makes much more sense, before quite suddenly realizing that it doesn’t make any sense at all because how could Toriel hide this many knitting projects from you- how could they teach _Frisk_ to knit without you noticing!? But before you have time to voice the questions his answer gave rise to, the others are speaking. “TINY HUMAN,” Papyrus begins with his typical volume, only to catch himself as he sees you wince and start again with his recently learned inside voice. “Tiny human, I prepared these decorations for you, to express what words cannot say. But also what words can say, because I wrote some on the banner, see? Remember, Chara, we all love you!”

You don’t even catch what Sans says as you look up at the banner again, because now that you’re looking at it from near the coffee table you can see the backside of it is covered in literally dozens of small, handwritten messages of support and encouragement. You would just assume Sans made a joke about how he helped too, except you’re pretty sure at least a few of the messages are in his handwriting.

“C-chara, we w-want you to know that we’re here for you, o-okay? You can come t-to any of us if you ever n-need to talk, or even just, y-you know, take a break.” Alphys is talking now, and you tear your attention away from the skeletons’ banner just in time to see her smiling awkwardly at you. “M-maybe a break with some a-anime, if you want? The n-new season of Mew Mew Kissie C-cutie is going to hit soon!” Frisk is smiling like a dumb idiot next to Alyphys and you don’t know whether you want to hit them for doing something so embarrassingly dorky and sappy or thank them because this time they really did pull out all the stops and you can’t find it in yourself to be angry. Then you get a whiff of something chocolatey and you turn to see that Mom stepped into the kitchen to pull something from the oven and you settle on thanking them. But that can come later. “S-so I didn’t make any fancy d-decorations, but I wanted you t-to have something to distract yourself with i-if you’re feeling like garbage. B-because, I, uh, I know how hard it can be t-to talk to people when you’re in the d-dumps, and having a h-hobby to do instead helps. Trust me.”

And then the lizard monster pulled out a little package wrapped in shiny paper, and holy shit, everyone starts pulling gifts out, and you wonder if suddenly this is your birthday or something. But Alphys waddles over to you and holds her present out for you. It’s palm-sized, rectangular, and the wrapping paper doesn’t say anything about birthdays- it’s just plain green, in your favorite shade. You feel like some amount of dignity should be maintained when opening gifts, but then you consider that you clearly have no dignity left if the situation has devolved into _a goddamn intervention with party streamers and cake_ , so you just tear it open instead as if you were a little kid.

It’s some weird metal remote? It’s got three buttons on it and before Alphys can instruct you on what to do with it you’ve already pressed one and the whole thing just folds out into… a guitar? You wonder how it’s even possible, but Alphys isn’t explaining that. “I a-actually know how to play! Undyne i-isn’t the only musician, after all. Would you believe that Sans and I use t-to be in a band together? I m-mean, it was years ago and we were r-really bad, but still.” You ignore Sans as he makes a half-hearted objection, because you’ve heard him play a trombone before and he actually doesn’t suck but fuck if you’re going to let him know that. Instead, you distract yourself with a few tentative plucks on the strings. “I-if you want, I w-would be happy to teach you how to p-play, Chara.” Alphys is smiling awkwardly at you again and you can’t help but smile back. “Yeah, that sounds nice, actually.” And you mean it, genuinely, more genuinely than you thought you would because sometimes you do wish you could distract yourself with something loud enough to chase your ugly thoughts away.

You start opening the other gifts after that, although you stop half way through when Mom starts handing out cake slices, and you’re wondering again how someone as terrible as you earned such nice friends and family. Everyone is together in the living room with cake and smiles and good times, and it’s moments like these where everyone can laugh that you can forget for a bit how terrible it will be when you lose these people because you find yourself filled with a determination _not_ to lose them. The feeling has never lasted before, but maybe this time it will?

Frisk is sitting next to you at the coffee table and they nudge you in the side while you contemplate it. “See Chara? We all love you. We’re never gonna give up on you, so can’t you please just let us help you?” Normally you’d tell Frisk you’re a lost cause, but you don’t have it in you to shut them down now and part of you, the part that’s getting warm and giggly from all this mushy stuff, that part of you _does_ want to let them try to help you because you’re realizing how amazing it would be if they really can and you can be loved like this forever. So you smile back at Frisk. “Alright, fine. I suppose that if you really did go join the Chara Protection Squad, I can’t stop you all from trying now.” You make it sound like a joke, but you mean it because you think that maybe they really mean what they said too.

“Golly, it’s too bad I don’t have a torso to put one of those ugly sweaters on! But I signed up too, so if you find any Chara haters, plant me in the dirt outside their house and I’ll show you some really _fun_ Chara protection!” interjects Flowey with that menacingly chipper affect only he can summon, and Frisk has to tell him no shooting other people but you just smile because that does sound like a fun show. His comment gets you thinking, though, and you have to address the elephant in the room “Yeah, the sweaters are really thoughtful and all, but… You’re not actually going to wear that to school, right? Please don’t.” you say, only for Frisk to grin back at you. “Yep! I’m gonna wear it, because I gotta be on Chara protection duty even while we’re at school.”

You roll your eyes and try to look calm while you panic on the inside. “Oh please, Frisk. I don’t have any ‘haters’ at school, so who are you even protecting me from?” you say, hoping desperately you can talk Frisk out of embarrassing you with their shirt. But Frisk just gives you that cheeky look again before they poke your shoulder with a finger. “You’re the number one Chara hater out there, Chara! So I have to protect you from yourself!”

You somehow find it in you to set your plate of chocolate cake down so you can hide your face in your hands. “Flowey,” you say half-heartedly, “I know whose house I need to plant you outside of.” But Frisk just laughs, and then you laugh too because their giggles are contagious and you imagined Flowey making Frisk dance like a monkey with friendliness pellets.

“It’s not just me, you know!” adds Frisk, and then you groan in horror because _they’re right_. Mom teaches at the school, Dad is the groundskeeper, and Alphys is like part-time tech support whenever she’s not busy with other, more professional science stuff. “At least Undyne doesn’t have a shirt…” you consider aloud in a faux-miserable tone.

Then there’s a scaly hand ruffling up your hair and you can hear Undyne laughing. “Fuhuhu! Is that what you think, punk? PE class is under Chara Protection Squad supervision now too!”

Oh no. Oh, god no. You turn around to look at Undyne, already knowing what you’ll see but hoping you won’t see it.

The sound of Undyne’s shirt tearing fills the air as the heroine shouts overdramatically and even though you hate this, you love it. “NGAHHH!” She rips the black, sleeved shirt apart to reveal one more Chara Protection Squad sweater hidden beneath it. “There… there is no escape, is there?” you say, twitching with some odd mixture of amazement and fear as you look up upon your secret-not-so-secret idol while she throws the remains of her old shirt at Papyrus. “Fuhuhu! No way, Chara! You and me, we’re gonna be besties too, you got it!?”

And then Frisk is giggling again and they push their present towards you. “You should probably open this one now.” they say, and you tear your eyes off of Undyne to look at them, perplexed, before looking down to their gift. It’s not really any different from the others. Wrapped just the same. Kind of soft, you suppose, and not very heavy. You can hear the wrapping paper crinkle as you squeeze it. Then it occurs to you exactly what the gift must be. “Frisk, I swear…” you threaten toothlessly as you start opening the gift. Sure enough, it’s one final Chara Protection Squad sweater, sized just big enough for you to grow into. The stitching is messy in some places, and that’s how you can tell that Frisk must have made this one.

“I know you probably still don’t totally believe you can get better yet. But one day you’ll get it, because we’re not going to stop trying to help you be better.” says Frisk as you clutch the garment in your hands. Holding it is making you feel a lot of weird feelings and you’re not sure what all of them are yet so you have to set it down, but you do it gently to make sure Frisk knows you don’t hate it. You don’t hate it, actually, which kind of surprises you but it’s hard to hate anything right now when everyone you love is showering you with so much support and affection. “When it finally sinks in to that stubborn head of yours, I think you’ll be ready to start helping yourself. That’s why I made a sweater for you, okay? So you don’t have to wear it now, but one day I hope you’ll want to.”

You’re definitely not crying, because big kids don’t cry, but if there’s a little water in your eyes no one is going to notice because you throw yourself into a hug around Frisk. “Oh my god, Frisk, you’re such a dork.” They giggle again and hug you back, and you’re pretty sure you hear the others going “Aww!” but you don’t care right now because you’re having a moment.

At least you are up until Flowey throws a friendliness pellet at Frisk; not hard, but just enough to make them jump. “Get a room, you two!” he shouts, and even as Mom begins to chastise Flowey and Flowey counters with the fact that you did _technically_ say you needed protection from Frisk earlier, you laugh again. Frisk laughs again too. The moment has passed, but the feelings are still there. You hope that these feelings will stay for a long time, because for the first time in a long time, you feel safe- safe from yourself, safe others, safe from what you could do to others. You feel loved. You feel _protected_.

**Author's Note:**

> So there it is! I hope you enjoyed reading it. Originally this story was written from a third person PoV and in past tense, but early in the story I decided to change it to Chara's perspective and present tense. It was kind of experimental, and the end result is somewhat rambly and stream-of-consciousness but intentionally so. Do you think the style worked out? I've seen it done really well in other fics, so I'm curious what people think about my attempt.


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